Pinpricks to Heaven
by KandHforever
Summary: "Love, remember who you are always.  Keep this with you, for wherever you may go, you cannot leave yourself behind." My thoughts on how Feliks became Poland and his life before that.


"No! No, please don't! I don't want to marry that...that _kid_! And another male, too? Do you want me to be damned to hell?" Feliks cried to his boss, but to no avail. He, too, was only ten. Yet he had heard that this "Lietuva" was but eight. A fine point for argument.

"Of course not, Felek, but you forget that you are indebted to your country. Do you not want to do it proud?"

Feliks stood as tall as his short five foot stature would allow him, "I am my country, therefore I have not any dept. You said so yourself. Perhaps it is that thou _lied _to me," he lifted his frail hand to point at his tall overlord, "Do you not find this to be a sin? Unfair that I was ill-informed? That is fine," Feliks smirked, his eyes glinting, "Cuz' I'll totally tell Jadwiga and she'll kick your sorry ass!"

He ran away down the narrow hall, scarcely lit by torches. Within seconds, he was unable to be seen, only his call could be heard, "Oh, and do not ever call me 'Felek'!"

The boy is hopeless, his boss thought. He was not in the least bit scared; it didn't matter what his toy wanted. In the end, his life was not his own, but Poland's.

Meanwhile, the young Feliks groped for a torch. All were several inches above his head, making this quite a chore. At last, his thin fingers grasped the warm base. Holding it away from him, he searched for his beloved Jadwiga's chamber. She was his favorite 'boss', though she seemed more like an older sister. Jadwiga always sided with him, made him delicious foods, sang to him at night, and provided him with friendship; a right that had been taken away from him some four hundred years before.

Feliks, aka 'Poland', was immortal to an extent. He didn't know how it happened, it just did. He didn't really question it at this time, though would come to during times of great trouble. The statement would arise: I wish I could die. Not that he wished himself dead, but that he _could _have the reward of peaceful slumber, forever. This was another right that had been taken from him. Even the most basic was now abstract. Most of the time he didn't regret it, he loved his Poland...though now Poland was himself. He also loved Jadwiga, his one hope.

But he was to be married, he feared, period. Feliks had surely suffered far worse before. But what he feared most now were the words of his mother. He could to this day picture her speaking to him in their tiny village home in the heart of Poland, around the year 980. He was only five when he was randomly selected to represent his new widely recognized country. He was to be their puppet to say, someone to make all their laws and changes official by doing them himself. It was very odd how it worked, but the young Feliks just knew it did. His cottage was but one large room that the whole family shared. His mother and father (his father only lived to see him turn four) slept on one larger cot-type device, his two older sisters (he thought their names were Adelajda and Anastazja, but he was no longer sure) shared a large bale of hay covered in a completely hand-made sheet. Then there was Feliks and two other brothers, one a year younger and the other two years older. He only remembered his older brother's name to be Fryderyk, but his younger brother's name had been forever lost to Time.

Adelajda wasn't all that pretty for a girl her age, which was sixteen. She had flaxen hair and pale baby blue eyes but an unfortunately pointy nose and chin. This was not completely her fault; food was scarce, leaving her face an almost hollow shell. She was a rail all the way down, hardly any chest or hips to speak of. Really, Adelajda should had been married by that age to a man she was promised to at birth, but he died on her thirteenth birthday, a week before they were to by married. In respect for her 'love', as she claimed he was, she vowed to remain at home but provide more food for the family. Adelajda had no idea how, but she was determined to make it happen. She was the kindest of his siblings, giving up her food on Tuesday and Thursday pretending these were her favorite days to fast on. Instead, she was afraid the children would starve, oblivious to the fact she was but skin and bone. She had bad sides, too, like the way she would take an hour brushing out her long hair which then ended up everywhere - in the food, on Feliks, on the dog's head. If you could name it, it was marked by at least one of Adelajda's golden ringlets. Also, she had horrid nightmares that woke her, and everyone else in the household, up screaming. Feliks was not that fond of her, really. She was timid and rarely spoke unless spoken to and always responded politely. Feliks just didn't understand how she was never cross, so much unlike himself.

A year after he was taken to the palace, Feliks received word that she had died of cancer. She had kept the feeling that something inside of her was not right from her family. It explained why her hair fell out all the time, however.

This was almost four hundred years ago.

His other sister, Anastazja, was thirteen and beautiful. Her hair was an abnormal straight dark brown, her eyebrows were thick and straight, and her eyes were a piercing bright blue. Feliks admired her and swore that he would someday marry her. Of course, it was only a childish confusion of the types of love, but still. Her cheeks were plumb but not fat, and always had a pink just-pinched look. Her nose was delicately curved and button-like. Unlike her sister, her breasts were well developed, giving her an hourglass figure every woman in the surrounding villages envied.

Sadly, her beauty was the highlight of her. Anastazja's temper wasn't to be reckoned with, though she was always somewhat kind to Feliks. Maybe a little snappy, but nothing he would not overlook. To the rest of her family, especially her sister, she was almost unbearable. She was usually cross and bossy beyond compare, but she was loved anyways. Anastazja was also promised to a young man around sixteen, who she was to marry only a few months after Feliks was taken away. As far as he knew, the wedding had taken place like it normally would have with him there. He almost felt sorry for that poor man that had to deal with her mood swings.

Feliks wondered if she had had any children and what her lifestyle was like during the rest of her lifetime. Surely it was nice. His parents had a way of finding the best partner their small dowry could buy. He, however, was only alerted of her death, in 1020 when she would have been fifty-three. This was three hundred and sixty-five years ago.

Feliks only remembered that his seven year old brother, Fryderyk, had the same dark hair as Anastazja, and that he died in 1010. His younger brother had oddly red hair and six fingers on one hand. He was accused of being a warlock and was burned alive when he was twenty, in 1001.

Last was his mother. She was a plain woman with the same yellow blonde hair and emerald eyes as Feliks. Her named had been Angelina, and Feliks truly thought she was an angel. She was just like every mother should be: loving, passionate, caring, soft, beautiful, and wise. She provided him with most of his memories; memories that made him feel horrible about himself and his life.

The night before Feliks was taken to the royal palace, knights came to inform Angelina that they had one night to say farewells. His sisters cried while Fryderyk whittled on a small piece of spare wood, thinking God knows what. The youngest brother (perhaps Filip had been his name?) asked repeatedly what was going on, to never receive an answer.

His sisters hugged and kissed on Feliks, crying their goodbyes that night for fear that when they awoke, he would already be gone. At ten, several hours after their usual bed time, Angelina declared everyone should go to bed. As Feliks was walking to the bed he slept in, his mother stopped him.

"Felek, darling, will thou come outside with me? I wish to speak with you."

So into the dark, humid outside world they went. Feliks noticed it was unusually clear and millions of stars were visible. They looked like pinpricks in the black velvet of night that let the heaven's light filter out to give peace to the mortal world. The barley and wheat swayed in it's usual wave-like way. It looked as though they were wishing him farewell. Even the poppies, which had bloomed late that year, were calling to him in a way they never had before. _Please, Feliks, do not leave me_, they called. _I love you._

Angelina picked Feliks up in her thin arms and pointed to the sky, "See there, my child? There is heaven beyond that sky. And do you know what?"

Feliks looked her in the eyes, "What, Mother?"

Angelina smiled and tilted her head lovingly, "If God says that we shall not meet again in this life, I will meet you up there. Always remember that, child. You will never be alone because I have you here," she placed a hand on her heart, "And someday I will have you up there. I will hug you, and kiss you, and show you all my love. But for now you must be strong. Those that will be over you are good men, but they cannot push the river. It must, and will, flow on it's own accord. Understand, love?"

"Yes, Mother, I do. Tell me though, what is to become of you? I care not where I go as long as you are safe," She smiled and kissed his cheek.

"I will always be safe in my Lord's hands. Love, remember who you are always. You are strong, and determined, and the most handsome boy I have ever had the privilege of laying eyes on. Keep this with you, for wherever you may go, you cannot leave yourself behind." Feliks was never told when his mother died, but hoped she had lived a long, happy life filled with the best of peasant life.

Early that morning before any of the family arose, Feliks began his journey to Krakow. He hated that place. It was fine, but it was in no way his home and he did not intend to make it that. Within minutes of reaching Krakow, he and his boss entered the royal palace. It was huge and lively. The morning sun glittered off the brightly colored glass windows. The smell of fresh bread lingered and tickled Feliks's nose teasingly. _Welcome Feliks, Welcome home _it taunted_._ A deep violet rug covered much of the mosaic-ed floor, and huge chairs much too large for Feliks alone dotted the main room. After several minutes, Feliks was lead up a long flight of stairs and down a hall where the sun's rays dared not venture. At the end was his chamber. Feliks was left to explore it, but it alone.

He decided to do as he was told, and opened the heavy wooden door revealing a beautifully large room with one bed, a chair, a desk, a personal chamber pot, and several torch holders for night time. On three of the walls were large, clear windows that Feliks welcomed. From them, he could see Krakow, a barley field, and in the distance perhaps five miles away, his home. It was only a dot, and it was a miracle he could see it. However, his room was in the tallest tower of the palace. He, of course, couldn't make out anything but the thatched roof. Yet, he thought he saw a small being waving at him, but perhaps it was but a cruel trick of the light.

The next thing he remembered was falling into a deep sleep that he suspected later to have lasted three days. During this time he knew not what happened, but he did hear some maids discussing a 'ritual' afterward. The tall, lanky younger woman called Bogdana had explained to the older woman called Edyta that during this time a sorcerer came to make him immortal until the 'final death' of Poland when he would then age rapidly for a day or two. During that time he would experience all the pain his life would have held had he lived normally. It seemed, by her words, that his emotions had been numbed to an extent to deal with all the change he would face, but would still believe he was feeling all he could. "Besides," she had said, "he seems dependent. He will be easy to manipulate."

At that moment, he swore to go against anything and everything the bosses told him to do, even if in the end he must comply. The goal was to make them think they had lost, though they had won. Feliks knew that they would always win, because he didn't really have a say. He was not royal in any way, just a device to make things official to say. It was not his life and resistance was useless, but in the words of his mother he was going to flow on his own.

Now, Feliks knocked on Jadwiga's huge, gilded door. There was no reply. "Miss Jadwiga, may I, like, speak with you?" the only reply he received was the echoing of his own voice. Defeated, he walked quickly down several corridors until he reached his room. Inside, he admired the walls that had become his own. He had had them painted a dark pink despite objections from his advisers. They feared it would somehow make him overly-feminine, but Feliks insisted on it. Pink had been his mother's favorite color! They couldn't take that from him. He had also had a large mirror added on the wall with the window facing where his home had once been. Now all he could see was a pile of stone surrounded by rye and barley. It was a miracle, actually, that the stones had not been taken away to be used, ironically, in the expansion of the royal palace.

He sat now looking into his reflection. He had changed much since arriving, though the change was slow. His eyes used to sparkle and be youthfully round, but now they looked hollow and tilted downward. He always seemed to have either the expression of deep satisfaction or great fear, but usually there was no telling them apart. He looked like a girl, he thought, and he was right. His full cheeks and delicately pointed chin most certainly gave him a feminine look that was only accented by his speech, which he almost used as a weapon. He loathed it, but it was hard to stop. He felt that, though embarrassing, it might make him seem stronger; more like Jadwiga. Of course, he could stop but had little interest in doing so. To make it even better, it annoyed the hell out of the boss.

He looked exactly like he remembered his mother looking, maybe with a little of Adelajda thrown in around his nose and lips. As far as he knew, he looked little like his father, who was an older man with black hair, thick black eyebrows and naturally olive skin. He didn't really know where he came from, but Feliks suspected he was of Russian descent because of his accent. They never were close, for he loved to drink and if he was not being publicly embarrassed as punishment for some misconduct, he was at a friend's house, sleeping away the hangover. And the cycle repeated.

Feliks noticed how long his hair was getting. It was no longer a neat short cut like when he was at home - it had grown and inch or two down his back, acting as a shield.

"I...I want to cut it all off," he muttered to himself, picking up a small knife. "I'm not sure how to do it, though. I'll have to totally wing it..." he started chopping strand after strand until his neck was once again visible. Next he cut above his ear until he only feel this silky tresses brush the top of his lobe. He tried to the best of his ability to layer his bangs long and masculine, and in the end succeeded. He smiled at himself and nodded. "Now you look like a man, and a Pole at that. At least I don't look like a damn woman!"

Then the door inched open, revealing Jadwiga in full royal attire, "What's wrong with being a woman, pray tell? Behind every strong man is a woman that knows what the heck is going on," she winked and gracefully swept in and sat next to him, looking into the mirror. "You did a fine job on your hair, but I'm afraid you look rather male now!"

Feliks wrinkled his nose and smirked, "That proves it."

"Proves what, Felek?"

"That the horses have an easier time after the woman gets off the carrage~!" he jumped up as Jadwiga lunged for him. Feliks stuck out his tongue and danced a polka around the room as Jadwiga chased him.

"I say, you are becoming quite good at that dance. Such graceful movements!" she stopped chasing him, "Oh, forgive me. I forgot that I was not to talk to you until the day you meet Lietuva...And there were strict orders from the boss not to visit your bed chamber," Feliks stopped dancing and stared at her blankly.

"Why? Have I been totally bad?" Jadwiga sat down on Feliks bed and he followed.

"No, pet, not too bad. Perhaps a little, uh, rebellious but not bad. You see, you are engaged and...I'm not much older than you, only two years. They are afraid that...Well, even though we are very young, that we might-" Feliks held a finger up to her lips.

"That's...that's a dirty thing for them to suspect! I'm only ten!" Jadwiga nodded and patted his hand.

"Yes, and I am only twelve. If you were a normal person, you would probably be married in three or four years. And...I have kept a secret from you."

Feliks crawled onto his bed and laid down, pulling Jadwiga with him. They laid side by side, looking at the paintings decorating the ceiling, "What is it?" Jadwiga sat up and pulled her short legs to her chest.

"I am to be married soon. His name is Jogaila. That is a horrid name, isn't it? He's 26. Imagine!" she laughed and motioned to Feliks to braid her hair like he so liked to do. "Can you not imagine the wedding night? That is a horrible topic but really. I'm afraid I'll never love him, and the boss knows it. If I lost my virginity to you, perhaps the marriage would not happen. I would not do that, though, and am very insulted that he thinks I am so low."

"I sometimes wish I was a girl. If I was, I could be with you all I wished and would never have to leave your side. We could dance and sing and no one would suspect anything when you stayed over in my chamber or I fell asleep on your lap. But no, I have to be male. I also almost wish I was a threat, just so you didn't have to marry someone you don't know. I promise you I am not, though."

"I know that Felek, but the boss is too ignorant. I'm not going to let his orders stop me from visiting you, though. After the marriage is consummated I will visit as I wish. I doubt it will be found to be shady given your age. Ha, that is quite the contradiction." Jadwiga leaned over and gently kissed Feliks's lips, "I do love you though, Felek. If I had a choice of who I could marry it would be you even though I think of you more as a brother. Better to be married to a brother than to an enemy, right?"

Feliks smiled and nodded, "Yeah, I think you are right. I love you, too, Jadwiga, but I think I'll marry Lietuva. That way it will seem even more innocent when we are alone," Feliks yawned and pulled Jadwiga back down, falling asleep with her arm wrapped around him and his head on her chest.

_My Lord_, Jadwiga thought, _this is perfect. I have my 'brother' with me, and he has agreed to marry Lietuva. I feel as though we are lovers with a great secret, which is almost true. I'm afraid he doesn't love me but instead thinks of me like his mother, sister, and girlfriend combined. I do wish our fates were closer, though. I should probably tell him I will be leaving for another palace, but parting is already enough a sorrow. We can wait._

A week passed without event or problem, but on the seventh day the Lithuanian party arrived. Feliks tried one last time to convince his boss and advisers marriage was not smart, but submitted. Feliks sat in his huge red throne decorated with jewels and gold, shaking inside his mind. This was it.

A young man walked into the room. He was average looking, and about an inch taller than Feliks. He had medium brown, wavy long hair and worried eyebrows. His eyes were piercing blue. _Anastazja..._

Feliks winced and then smirked, hoping the light was reflecting effectively in his eyes.

"I have heard about your arrival for quite some time. Your long journey must have been an arduius one. I am known as _Poland_, the current ruling entity of Eastern Europe."

* * *

This was so random that is isn't even funny. It came out of no where, I tell you!

Okay, so first I'm sorry for historical inaccuracies and whatnot, I was more concerned with telling Poland's story as I thought it might have happened. Second, I was pretty much asleep writing the first half so I might have a grammar issue or two. Third, this was just for fun. I hope I didn't offend with the talk of "You know" between such young people, but the times were different and it wasn't uncommon for marriage and _that _that young.

Please review!


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